Fast Girls: Erotica for Women
Fast Girls: Erotica for Women
Yes, but this is a blog about sex and aging. Is anyone in this anthology over 50? Yes — one character — 51-year-old Shirin seduces a much younger classical pianist (who can resist those fingers?) in “Waitng for Beethoven” by Susie Hara. Many other characters could be any age, so if you like imagining them 50+, as I do, you can get away with it.
One writer that I know of– D.L. King–is over 50. Her story “Let’s Dance” is about a woman who seduces an “adorable” young dancing man (we love our dancing men!) from the “vanilla club” dance floor into a cab to her photo studio/home equipped with pulleys and restraints, and introduces him to his fantasy (“Cute Boy was a total bondage slut”) and hers. Though D.L.King doesn’t make a big deal about the narrator’s age, you know she’s older. If dom/sub stories turn you on and you’d like to read a story by King expressly about a man’s 65th birthday gift (think a lifesize crate), read “The Gift” online. Check out her blog, too, for more about King’s books.
I asked D.L. King her views about age and erotica:
My dominant female characters are often my age and their submissive males are usually quite a bit younger, but that isn’t to say I haven’t written the obverse, too. I don’t always do it, but sometimes it’s fun to play with age.
I think erotica is a great way to get the juices flowing. After a while, people tend to lose interest in the same old sex. Erotica’s a great way to explore other options and spice up a relationship. If you read a story that really turns you on, bring it to your partner and see if he or she would like to try it on for size. Erotica can also help to stimulate your own fantasies. Anything that helps you to enjoy your sexuality more can only be a good thing!
I love to do readings and meet readers. Most of the readers who turn up for those events are young. I think many of my contemporaries don’t attend those kinds of events. I wish more would. After all, we’re the original free love generation.
I also asked the editor, Rachel Kramer Bussel, a prolific erotica writer herself, if she thinks that characters who are over 50 will become more common in erotica. She replied:
I hope so! I like to see a range of characters, though the ones that cross my desk when I’m editing an anthology tend to skew younger. I’d definitely welcome older characters and in general themes I haven’t seen before or as often in my anthologies. I’m editing two new anthologies now, Obsessed and Women in Lust and if there are older authors or those who simply want to add a little more variety, I encourage you to submit your work.
Let me know if this blog post results in your story being included in one of Rachel’s anthologies, will you?
Our First Kiss, August 2, 2001
Robert and I shared our first kiss nine years ago today, under the full moon after our line dance class. It wasn’t a sudden kiss — I had pursued this sexy, dancing man for nine months. We had danced, talked, strolled, even choreographed together — but, though always kind, he kept his distance. He admitted later that he was a little afraid of me, saw me sometimes as Spider Woman (!) because I was so assertive.
If you’ve read Better Than I Ever Expected: Straight Talk about Sex After Sixty, you know that I finally propositioned him by email. He turned me down, explaining gently that he didn’t make these decisions quickly or rush into sex. (Nine months: Quickly? Rush?)
Later that night he emailed me again. He had changed his mind!
“It’s been a while for these old body parts,” he wrote. “Maybe it’s time.”
We made a date to take a walk after the next dance class and discuss what to do next. We strolled under the full moon, not touching, and then stopped at a park bench.
There we shared our first kiss. And our second. Third. Twentieth.
We necked and petted like teenagers, the silver moonlight spotlighting our excitement. Then we made a plan to spend the following Saturday at his house and explore the next dimension of our relationship.
We didn’t know then that we would fall in love. But we did. I was 57 and he 64.
The memory of our first kisses remains strong in my mind, nine years later. So does the memory of our last kiss, two years ago today. As I wail with grief because Robert is gone, I embrace the precious joy of the seven years of great love that we shared. So many people never find that, and we did.
It is fitting that I finished writing Naked at Our Age the day before this significant anniversary, because Robert told me, shortly before he died, “Promise me you’ll keep doing your work.” I honor him by doing that.
His heart was beating under my hand
I had a beautiful dream about Robert, and as I approach the second anniversary of losing him, I keep rerunning the dream in my mind.
In the dream, I awoke to the sound of a song playing in my living room. I went down the steps, and there was Robert dancing! He was spinning so fast that he was almost a blur. He was dancing as he must have danced as a young man, before I knew him, when he was studying ballet and modern dance. I watched with love and amazement.
He slowed his spinning, then stopped and smiled at me, that tender smile that filled his eyes with softness. I put my hand on his chest, hot and moist from his exertion. Then the most wonderful part of the whole dream: I felt his heart beating under my hand!
So many times in our seven years together (exactly, from first kiss to last), I rested my hand on his beating heart. It was always the first place I touched when we came together. It was where my hand rested when we snuggled after making love. I loved his fuzzy chest hair–the touch and smell and heat of it–and I loved his beating heart.
Fun is Sexy: Making Love Before Making Love
Robert and I had rituals, made-up words, silly secrets, and special games that warmed us with laughter, kept our intimacy strong, and made us feel like we were making love all day long. Silly things, sometimes – like “Panda.”
Robert and I used to exchange a tiny toy panda with paws that clutched tightly, permitting us to attach it to objects. I’d leave Panda attached to Robert’s shoelace, on his toothbrush handle, under his pillow, peeking out of his bathrobe pocket, even on top of the coffeepot — anywhere he’d find it unexpectedly and enjoy the surprise. 
Then when one of us would find Panda astride our favorite vibrator, or holding onto the lubricant nozzle, or on the pillow, little legs up, we’d understand the special invitation!